


Let's Hang Out.

by Anonymous



Category: Hermitcraft RPF, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Biting, Blood Drinking, Blood and Gore, Boys in Chains, Branding, Broken Bones, Character Turned Into Vampire, Cutting, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Duct Tape, F/M, Female Antagonist, Hair-pulling, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Touching, Other, POV Antagonist, Sexual Assault, Torture, Unrequited Crush, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:33:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26604508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Mumbo and Iskall were just leaving a Minecraft convention, planning on hanging out more. They didn't plan on being hung to the ceiling by chains. Nor did they plan being acquired by a family of Vampires.Oh yeah, they want Iskall to join their ranks.Just great.(Please give me criticism. I want to know how to make this better.)
Relationships: Mumbo Jumbo and Iskall
Kudos: 7
Collections: Sacrificed Blood





	Let's Hang Out.

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the Blood Cult Competition. If I am willing to write a quick work about myself getting shot to my friend, then gore ain't nothing to me. 
> 
> I don't condone anything that happens here in real life though. Don't harm anyone, or else I might be in your nightmares tonight. 
> 
> Oh yeah, my friend Sharo helped loads with this one, also, please thank discord user OmegaVerz. 
> 
> Those two are amazing.

She was famished. Dare I say it? She was starving. To many, she was the privileged white kid, always complaining on an empty pit of a stomach. 

But when I say she was starving….she was  _ starving. _

And now, she might get full tonight.

Dinner was tricky to get. Especially with the traffic. Who knew a tiny island such as the UK could be impossible to navigate? Most importantly, her boss, ahem, mistress, is notoriously picky. 

Luckily, here before this tiny lady are two delectable meals. Juicy and well strung up. Seasonings couldn't improve a thing. It was perfect. Even the smells and appearances were appetizing. Two hot meals with drinks? Yes  _ please.  _

She licked her lips. Her mouth was drooling at the sight.  _ Man, dinner never looked so good. I just want to try a bite right now. But, the mistress demands for me to choose one to spare and the other to...keep. That old bat never lets me have fun.  _

_ She always wanted to sever  _ **_our_ ** _ food. As if there isn't any more where they came from.  _

With a skip of her heart, she hopped to her prey. Both were chained by their wrists to the ceiling, lifted off the ground by one inch, and barely covered from the elements. Like pigs being prepared for a slaughter, they were thoroughly drugged with sleepy time melatonin which barely allowed them to become conscious. With shallow breaths and dazed gazes, they were gently acknowledging the existence of the other. 

She giggled at their visible growing paranoia. They never really stabilize their surroundings before it is too late.  _ They are only human, after all. Only men. Both different but the same at heart.  _

The aforementioned men before her were direct opposites of each other. 

One was a stout man. Half-way over five feet tall with a few pounds here and there. Thanks to her kindness, his glasses were taken off his face when he dragged away and then placed back on him again. More about his appearance screamed couch potato with his unkempt, black, flat hair, super casual clothes, and pale skin. He was a dwarf-troll in her opinion. 

The other has a lanky sight to behold. His body towers over most that she has seen over the years. At least 6'3. He seems to have perfect vision and slightly messy hair. But, through his lean muscle, and slightly light complexion, she assumes he is an out-doorsy type with a knack for social gatherings and general manners. He is definitely an athlete  and ahunkduetohisstrength . 

She wonders which one she should play with first.

What? Just because she isn't allowed to dig in doesn't mean she couldn't have fun. 

She tapped her fingers in delight, quaking in pleasure.  _ What the mistress doesn't know won't kill her anyways. Now,  _ _ who _ _ should I taste first?  _

The  hunk before her was fully awake now. "Hello? What do you want with us? I-I can get whatever you need." His eyes screamed panic despite the words rolling from his lips effortlessly.  _ This one's adorable, he thinks that he has grounds to negotiate with me.  _

"Whatever I need?" She taps her long silicone finger nail upon her cheek as if she was pondering his offer. "You think that you can give me  _ whatever  _ I need?" She walks up to him and trails her fingernails up his chest to brush his floofy hazel hair out of his face. 

Speaking of his face, it was beet red and his tongue was stuttering. "Y-Yes?" He gave a little cough to try to clear out the fear in his voice. "Ahem. I can give you what you need-" She plays with his hair, making him blush and stutter  _ even more _ . "-need-need so you can let us go! Just tell me what you need and I will- will-" 

It was kind of  _ hot.  _ The panic in his soft face, the raise of his unique british accent, and  _ oh  _ his chasms. She practically melted at the sight. Alas, he was either snatched by a basic bitch or 110% gay. Why are the good men always gone? 

_ Still, can't I have fun?  _

She smiles seductively at him. "Alright, you drive a hard bargain." She pokes his cheek with a pointy nail. "What I need from you is-" 

"Leave him the hell alone!" Shouted the other prisoner, the swedish accent was clearly defined in the order. "Keep your filthy hands off of  _ Mumbo!"  _

With a sigh, she forced herself to look at the other prisoner. The commotion must have helped wake up this troll. His eyes were still glazed in sleep, but doused in rage. Most of that rage was evident in his yelling _.  _ Oh  _ god, _ he was making  _ so  _ much noise. 

If she doesn't the short idiot shut up, her Mistress could come down early and take away this chance for the woman to enjoy herself. Again. 

_ Well well well! If you care about your friend so much, I wonder what you will endure for him?  _

She then pulls herself away from Mumbo, ignoring the brit's pleas of  _ sparing  _ his stupid friend, and walks toward the glaring swede. 

Then, in one easy step, she draped her arms around the compressed male, actively caressing his face, arms and most definitely, his  _ chest.  _ "So, you want me to leave that  _ tall  _ glass of water alone?" Her lips barely peck his cheek as she pressed his hips against her own. 

He didn't like this at all. The poor  _ poor  _ tiny man shrunk back at her touches, shivering and jerking himself away from her, trying to escape her lack of boundaries. With that cute face of his, he was scowling and protesting her  _ treatment.  _ "Hey, don't touch me- Yes, I want you to leave him alone!" He scolds. 

As a response to his reaction, she moved her gaze down to his bottom half, spooning him and caressing his legs. With widened eyes, he bulked and kicked her. 

He  _ kicked  _ her. Squarely kicked her in the chin.  _ Hard.  _

Hard enough to knock her back.

That was the second most shocking thing to her that moment. 

She was also shocked by the taller's reaction to her assault, but not nearly as much. Instead of begging, like he was before hand, the adorably stupid giant was shouting at her and using the chain to try to swing himself to her. Of course, he would always come up just out of reach, but the fact that the Swede's protectiveness was shared by this fluffball truly surprised her. 

But neither of those surprised her more than when that giant man fell dead silent.

No movement, no pleading, not even a whimper came from his lips. 

Because the troll kicked her. 

She cupped the edge of her jaw, checking it for damage. 

_ Huh. I didn't expect that. But I should have. _

After readjusting it, she rubbed the front of her face, finding...her own blood from her mouth. 

He had kicked her so hard that she bled. 

Giving a glare, the obviously dumb swedish man chortles at her. "I told you to..stop?"

Spitting out some blood and wiping it from her face, she grinned. Baring her teeth. 

The  _ prey  _ started shaking with their faces sheet white.  _ Good.  _

"Oh, you want to play? Let's  _ play. _ "

She reaches down her left leg and pulls a knife from its hidey hole. Then, she  _ leapt  _ upon her kicker, the troll, with his gorgeous friend clearly begging her not to, trapping him within her embrace. With a swift motion, she grabbed a fistful of his hair making him groan in pain, and yanked him up to her cold eyes glaring down at him with a wicked smile. 

"I want to see how much you can take before you squeal like the pig you are or pass out. If you ever so much as  _ think  _ of screaming, your fretful friend will endure a much worse fate than you. If you don't, I will leave him alone.  _ Deal? _ " She glimmers in contempt. 

The troll opened his mouth to answer, but then the friend in question, Mumbo, hollered, "Please, you- you were willing to make a deal  _ with _ me in exchange for our freedom! He-" 

If looks could kill, Mumbo would have been stabbed repeatedly by the one she was giving after turning her head to him. 

Then, she brings her attention back to the glasses wearing man. "Also, if that fretful man makes a peep when I start, this will get so much worse for you." 

Trembling, the swedish troll nodded while the brit closed his mouth and looked away. 

"Good boys." She lets go of the hair, swings her gaze down his sweaty back, and quietly traces a pattern with her knife on it. He was shaking all the way through, clearly dreading what will happen next. 

"Remember, don't scream." Then, she dug her blade into his skin, causing a low, held back whine to fall out of his mouth. He is obviously trying and probably crying. "Oh? Does it hurt? Poor baby. You are really pathetic, are you? This is just the mark for your branding. The  _ real  _ test will be momentarily." 

His head twisted up and gave her a flabbergasted look. "Wha- Branding?" 

She smiled. "That's right. When someone else approaches us, we want them to know who you belong to. Now, don't be such a bitch and take it like a man. I did." The shorter swede squirmed and wriggled as she continued to shove in the knife, blood was slowing seeping out. "Hold still, I could cut out your spine if I wanted to." Eventually, the butt of the dagger hit his skin, signaling that the  _ entire  _ blade was in. Then she slowly pulled the blade halfway out of the skin, causing blood to hiss out and more groans from the man beneath her. 

Then, with a sadistic grin, she started to carve in her mistress' insignia very….slowly. 

In and out went the knife, guilded by the hand filled with strife. 

In and out, past the bones, while the dwarf groans and groans. 

In and out, cutting the muscles and relishing in his  _ tussles.  _

In and out around the skin, making a circle to mark his kin. 

In and out- opps, it slipped, it was a wonder how he only quipped. 

In and out, as an intrusion, as he wished this was an illision. 

In and out and

In and out and

In and out and 

In and out and 

In and out. 

Then, she stopped, holding the dagger in place and admiring her work. The insignia was intricate but easy to sketch in as always. The entire thing was just a circle with the family crest; a six- sided star with a crescent moon on one side of it and a small sun on the other side. It was a marvel how the hunter's wedge slid through skin, muscles and nerves like butter. The design was one of her favorite parts of the entire experience, but it was topped by the Swede's actions during it. 

Hearing him whimper quietly and seeing him shake in an attempt to not to move a muscle was delicious. 

Speaking of delicious...He is now bleeding enough that she could taste him. 

When a smirk, she ripped out the blade from his body, giggling at his shocked quivers and tremors, and licked it with a sticky  _ slurp _ .

The blood was sweet. That was good news. However, it was sickly sweet, full of sugars. On top of that, the blood was also fatty and somewhat low in concentration. It was the sweetest, fattest blood that she has ever tasted. Even the plasma was full of fats and carbohydrates. While she had a sweet tooth, she had to spit it out; it wasn't very healthy. Basically, his blood was the liquid equivalent of a fried donut with powdered sugar and syrup. 

"You need to exercise more. Your blood is addicting but very full of junk. I suggest you start after tonight." She pauses with a smirk. "..If you live that is."

The short male gave her a weak glare emphasizing it with a low grunt. Even in this state, he still takes some offense. "You….You probably…'idnap people for kicks and you are insulting me on my health? What about your mental health lady?"

She temporarily let go of him, reshathed her knife, and walked away. 

"Hey! Where are you going? You can't just insult my weight and not expect a retort!" He whisper-yells behind her. 

She ignores his question and grapped a nearby brander with one hand. It was already heated up, glowing bright red. "Aww… I hit a sore spot for you, didn't I? Anyways, you better prepare yourself." 

The response she got was him spitting on her face. That only made her laugh. "You shouldn't have done that." She wiped off the mucus and waltzed over to his back. "No screaming. Remember?" She took a breath, gripping the iron with both hands, then shoved the glowing red brander into the marked spot, digging in  _ deep.  _

He bit his tongue  _ hard,  _ making an audible  _ crunch _ and a muffled cry. She, as a response, pushed the brander deeper and deeper, cauterizing the marks made by her knife. Immortalizing them. The shorty let out a horrible sob that hit a peak that she didn't believe men could hit.  _ He cries like a little girl. Ha! What a baby.  _

"How does that feel? I bet you believe that hell itself is branding your soul. You are definitely one of the weakest men I have ever seen. Many others have gone much longer than you without crying." She dug the hot iron in even deeper, relishing in the sobbing growing louder. "Are you ready for this? I hope so!" The brander was shoved into the boiling skin even  _ deeper _ , causing a held back whine and him arching his back. 

With a harsh chuckle, she pulled the brander out at last, unveiling the charred and carved symbol. The hisses of the boiling blood were dying down, finishing the process. This will never  _ ever  _ go away now. 

In front of her, the short man was shaking like a leaf, dripping with tears, sweat, and blood. 

"This isn't even the worst thing I could do to you and you are already quivering. How could you possibly last a minute of what I have planned for you without screaming?" She laughed at him. 

As if he heard her, the chubby man sobbed harder and glanced over to his friend who was oddly giving a look of encouragement. 

That said friend gave a thumps up with his chained hands. "You're-You're doing great. Don't listen to her, Iskall. She-she doesn't like that you haven't screamed yet. You can beat her." The british man stuttered with a watery smile to try to lift the swede's spirits up. 

The branded man only gave a small smile in return, tears still streaming from his eyes. "Thi-this is nothing. Nothing compared to trading villagers or..or the void...right?" 

The brit let out a stifled laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah, nothing like that bit of torture." 

The woman slowly steps away from the pair, putting the brander in a barrel of water nearby. On the way, she pulls  _ something _ out of her pants pocket. 

_ They really are good friends. However, I can't have them giving each other encouragement. That'll help the troll last longer.  _

With small steps, she crept up behind the giant, wrapping herself around him causing him to yelp.

The shorter man  _ was pissed.  _ "Get away from him! Remember what you said-" 

"I know. I know. I am just so  _ glad _ that you both are getting comfort from each other. It will be a shame if I….." She stands on her tippy toes and wraps a thick piece of duct tape across the brit's mouth. "…..cut you off." 

Mumbo only mummered some low whimpers as response.

She then pats his head and walks back to the fuming swede. 

"Now, where were we?"

The man, who was called Iskall, glared at her. "I..." He breathed hallowly, trying to regain his bearings. "...was brushin' off your challenge."

Ignoring his display of hubris, she wraps her arms around him from the back, sending waves of pain as she squeezes him tighter and tighter. She couldn't help but smile when his lanky friend was making muffled protests and pulling on his own chains. 

Iskall, as he was called, struggled to breathe. "How- how are you-" Her squeezes managed to crack his ribs, causing a loud  _ snap. _ "Ack! Ahh!" He choked by her crushing hold. "Ack! -thi-this strong! Acck!" 

"It is easy." She replied, gripping him ever tighter. "I was given a _boost_ a long time ago. And generously, I am gonna guve twhat bwoost to you! Am I so _niiiiice?~_ " She made a kissy face at Iskall while speaking in a baby-pitched tone. He gave her an unamused look under his agony and she pouted for a moment before leaning her head closer to his ears. 

"Hold still. The branding I gave you will be nothing compared to...this." She whispered in his ears, trying to induce shivers. Then, she loosened her hug, preparing herself for this moment. He would be her first person to change. 

Groping his chest area and reaching down, she tilts her head to the left side of his neck, taking in his grunts of displeasure. "Get ready~" She breathes down the side of his neck. 

Then, she ceases her movements, letting the entire room get so quiet that they could hear a pin drop. 

Soon, his muscles relaxed, a costly mistake. 

Taking the opportunity, she cramps him to her with her arms and chomps down his neck.

The howls were unlike any she had heard before. He was screaming, crying, begging, and even foaming at the mouth. 

His body spasmed, shoved, and bucked against her as she held him close to her chest. He won't kick her away this time. 

After a few minutes of her teeth grinding against his neck tendons, he does something curious in between his screaming. 

He calls out a word. "STRESS-AHHH!" 

That caught her off guard enough for her to lift part of her pearly canines out from his neck. 

_ What? Why did he yell that?  _ She inquired. 

This arranges another moment of silence in the room, given for the sobs and heavy breathing from her victim and the stuffed-in begging from the brit. She then realizes something.

Iskall probably knew that screaming would ruffle her feathers.  _ He was just trying to distract me!  _ She growled in her head. 

In retaliation, she sank her teeth deeper into his throat and greedily sucked down his running blood. She wanted to make sure that he feels every drop being stolen from him. 

And he did.

His shrill yells come back with a vengeance. That voice of his was hitting octaves that she didn't believe even children can hit and those screams were getting higher and higher. His arms jerked at the chains as he twisted to try to escape her grasp. The iron crasp that connected the chains to the ceiling tugged at the bricks that made up the ceiling, caused even more noise and pulled down some pieces. 

It was at this point that the torturer felt that her Mistress might be alerted by now. 

Fuck it. She wanted to make him suffer, hear his shrieks, and tear his mortal coil apart before  _ that rich old bitch  _ stopped her. 

It should be a while before the pain is dulled by her spit and venom anyways. 

Eventually, he begins to calm down. His screams were being reduced to cries and then to whimpers.  _ No! I need him to suffer! He kicked my...chin and caused me to….to...bleed......bleed…..blood….blood……Yes.....please….. No! I have to keep myself focused! Make him suffer! Make him scream! Make….make….make.. _

She was also losing herself and running out of time. 

Trying to bring back his reactions, she began to squeeze him again, leaving scratches and bruises at his arms and chest. He started to squirm and cry out again. His howls rallied her on.  _ That's..that's...a….start…. _

_ He needs more blood. I need to make him bleed and bleed and bleed and bleed and bleed and bleed and- _

"That is enough, Fraya. Release. He will be turned." 

A sharp pain jolts her veins, easily toppling her down to the floor. Her entire body slaps open from the lanthigic prisoner. 

"Ah! Ah- Mistress….Yes..Mistress…" she, Fraya, pants on the ground. 

She was a true mess down there. Her hair was greasy and knotted up. Her dress was slightly torn and stained. Her eyes were bright red fading to a murky green, bursting, and wide. Finally, her face was dripping with blood and her chin had a bruise on it. 

It was a surprise that her mistress didn't comment on that while stepping out of the shadows to inspect both of the prisoners: The seemingly unharmed brit and the passed out swede. "I see that you had fun. Thankfully, you didn't kill anyone this time." The countess's gray eyes flashed a furious red. "I still have to punish you, but you held yourself back.." Her eyes return to a dull gray as she sticks her fingers gently into the bite wound. "Cut the other one. I will taste this one first. Then, while I get….acquainted with that conscious human, you must finish your vows. You do remember them...do you?" 

Fraya shook with the absence of pain. "Yes, mistress. I do. And right away mistress."

The apparent servant pushes herself off the floor. Soon, she completely ignores the cute brit's panic coming back as she pulls out her knife and draws a long cut down his left arm. 

"Relax. This will heal before long. Also, since your friend has failed the challenge, you will get more where that came from." Fraya whispers in the tall man's ears. 

"Fraya, your new toy awaits." The countess sighs as she unceremoniously spits out Iskall's candy blood. "He is perfect for your taste." The countess spitefully jabs. 

Fraya nods obediently and leaves the brit to be tormented by her mistress. Then, she curls her body back around Iskall. The swede's body was harbored with his hallowed breathing and his involuntary shudders. 

Then, Fraya cleared her throat and whispered thus: "I am bound to you as your mistress and you are bound to me as mine. No one shall be held as high as I will be in your heart. You shall be mine through every weather, through the good, and the bad. I will always hold you tightly so that no one else will dare take you away. We are connected but never equal. I will never give you as much as you will give me. Your very soul is mine to weld and use as I see fit. If I command you to die...you will do so with a smile on your face. I will never love you or hold you to a high standard as you will for me. The bond is sealed in blood. Forever." She practically kisses his ear as she finishes her first eternal promise. Then, she made sure to sap any dripping blood from the wound. 

_ I am slowly getting used to his syrupy sweet blood. It is a shame that I won't be able to taste this ever again.  _

Then, Fraya gives a harsh kiss on his cheek as he sways in his chains and starts to leave him with her mistress and his unlucky friend. 

Even with tape on his mouth, the aforementioned unlucky European is hollering loudly behind her.  _ Probably because Mistress isn't kind. Or maybe it is because his friend is passed out.  _

_ If it is the latter, the human shouldn't worry.  _

_ The stupid troll will wake up in a couple of days. After all, his body is readjusting with the venom, that will keep him down for a few hours at the least. Still, all vampires' venom is personal. Mistress' keeps her victims in a coma for at least a month.  _

The mistress tugs on the conscious man's hair and turns her head to the younger vampire. "Fraya, wait." 

Fraya stops at her tracks, her mistress is still in her peripheral vision. "Yes, Mistress?"

The towering vampress cleared her throat. "Even though you disobeyed me, I will give you mercy, consider it and our newest…." The lady vamp gestures to Iskall hanging about. "...family member a birthday gift for you. A celebration will be held in your honor tomorrow after all. Since you are technically my servant, give much of your appreciation to me. If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't have lived past 15. Now, get some rest and...happy birthday." 

Fraya wiped away a tear threatening to tremble from one of her dead eyes. The old crone doesn't deserve any satisfaction or any real affection. "Thank you, Mistress." Fraya muttered in a flat monotone voice.

Then, the  _ servant _ walks out of that room.

Closing the door behind her, Fraya releases a breath that she didn't know that she was holding. Leaving  _ that  _ room was like having a weight lifted off of her chest. 

_ Why the hell does that room still terrify me? I should be fucking over this already. Wow, I really am a weak wrench. Whatever, we can eat again and I have my own toy to fuck with. Thanks auntie, I guess.  _

Fraya then walks down the dwindling hallways of her mistress's manor. She practically grew up here without knowing a damn thing about her family's true colors, thus she knew the place like the back of her hand. 

It also helped that the old bat, her  _ mistress,  _ was also her fucking aunt. Oh how far she has fallen. 

Before a minute passed by, she was outside of her room, on her balcony. The moon was slowly moving down the clear sky. It was still as clear as it was when those two men caught her too-long-sullen eyes.  _ They never would have guessed that this would happen to them.  _

\------------

A few hours ago. 

  
  


It was definitely a clear night, stars glittered against the night sky and the moon seemingly acted as a large flashlight. However, we are in a city. The city is constantly blocking the sky's beauty, hiding the stars and outshining the moon. Lights screamed at any residents and pushed at the space, claiming it. Ah, the folly of humanity can be literally highlighted here. 

This, surprisingly, is just another summer night for many in this high-human concentrate. Clear bright nights with much activity around the streets. London, despite rumors of much fog, is just like any other city. Despite being around a river, it mostly has clear skies. 

Skies that attract many locals and visitors. Or maybe...that weird convention attracted them? Who knows. 

This year, Minecon (The official Convention for one of the best selling games of all time.) is being held here. After all, many players hail from England. In fact, many players, more especially  _ famous  _ players, hail from Europe all together. Only crumbling America has more gamers. But for obvious reasons, many decided to urge the convention holders to avoid America. Afterall, it is at the brink of civil war.

Oh look, many visitors are heading to their hotels. It isn't difficult to tell which people are native and which are visiting. The visitors seem to like to sight see more or scramble into a hotel quickly. Jet lag is  _ killer _ .

One such visitor has a massive appetite. The long trip from their mainland home was exhausting to say the rest. 

Hidden in the shadows like a painfully awkward teen, this visitor wanted dinner. 

Her dead sea-green eyes cut through the masses crawling in this bright metropolis. 

Then a loud voice with a strange accent cuts through the crowd. 

"Wait! Don't leave me!" 

“Well, come on then! Keep up or you’re going to be left behind.” A  -cutenonotcutewhatareyoudoingFraya- man with a clear United Kingdom certified accent warned.

He grumbled and pushed through more people. “Hey, not all of us are freakishly tall, MJ. Would it kill you to maybe take shorter steps?”

“Probably not, but then I would be mistaken for a tree again.” 

_ A tree? Who in their right mind would mistake someone for a fuckin- I'm getting distracted.  _

This shadow turns her path directly through the crowd to catch up with these peculiar men. 

_ Sigh, Maybe  _ **_Mistress_ ** _ might enjoy her dinner this time. She threw a fit at the last hull. Called me a lazy bitch and everything. Not like I do everything for her or anything.  _

“I didn’t call you a tree, for crying out loud. Just, wait up, will you?”

His friend was standing beside him, convention goers parting around them for a moment. “I’m right here, Iskall. I won’t leave you behind, honest.”

“Pah, you had better not. You still owe me a cup of your  _ fancy _ tea, remember?” 

The man shuddered, a mock look of horror on his face. “Ugh, yes. After you made me try that horrid boiled sludge you call coffee.” And then he grinned. “This will be much, much better.”

With a dopey smile on her face, she crept ever closer to them while slipping past the crowds. 

_ This is oddly entertaining. I could watch them banter all day. But, duty calls.  _

The odd men at first knew where they were going. But, because they are both spoons, they got lost. The crowd managed to toss them out of their path and they barely noticed. Of course, _ she  _ noticed, and used their disoriented state to her advantage. 

In the shades of the bright glares, she shoved many crowd members into the distracted boys, pushing them into an ideal position. They were  _ just _ too focused on each other.  She could feel the disgusting jealousy crawl up her throat.

"The cafe is this way, remem-Hey! Could you watch where you are going?- ber?" The taller nearly squeaks as a lady is pushed unto him.

The shorter man seemed to have run out of patience. He grabbed his partner’s hand and tugged him  _ down _ . “You are too tall for this, Mumbo.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

But his friend was off, and pulling him along nearly bent in half. They made quick movements through the crowd, suddenly ending up across the street from the cafe before the brit could stand up straight again.

“Iskall! You remembered where it was! That’s, I’m. Well.” He gave his friend a slightly manic grin. “I’m just chuffed to bits!”

His friend cackled, drawing several stares from passersby at the startling noise.

After a few minutes of them losing their ever loving minds, the brit caught his breath. 

"Ok, now how to-"

A set of small footsteps is heard. Eerily, those footsteps overpowered the crowd's noise and were coming closer from the aforementioned crowd. 

The strange (probably swedish) man scooted closer to his friend. "Mumbo- was that you?" 

"I was- I was about to ask the same question." 

Both gave a horrified look at each other, completely paralyzed in beautiful terror. 

Then, to break the standstill, a loud  _ bang  _ shot through the crowd. 

The two Europeans jumped and scrambled deeper into the alleyway, practically running for the hills.

But the footsteps came closer. Seemingly catching up to them inch per inch! 

In this neverending pitch black maze, the men felt like mice, being chased by a way too enthusiastic cat. They needed to keep moving but they were really getting anywhere, were they? 

Clinging to Mumbo like a lost child, Iskall was desperate to not get separated from his friend again. Not again. Please not again! Please!

Mumbo, meanwhile, was looking at Iskall for guidance. It seems that all of his self confidence and bravery has gone out of the window as those stupid footsteps come closer.

And closer.

And closer.

And closer.

And  _ much  _ closer.

And much much too close for comfort until- 

Mumbo disappeared from Iskall's side. 

"Mumbo? Dude? If this is a prank- You said that you- you-" Iskall stopped his running and nearly collapsed unto the ground.

"You said that you wouldn't leave me behind! This has to be a prank! A dream even!" Iskall squeezes his eyes shut while struggling to breathe. "When I open my eyes, this will be-" He pops his eyes open, only to meet face to face with sea-green. 

"-Done?" Then, the Swede blacks out. 

The shadow shakes her head and clicks her tongue in pity. 

"This is far from done my friend." She pulls up her phone and dials her Mistress's number. 

"Mistress, I got dinner. It is fresh too. Can you pick me up?" 

\--------

Back to the present. 

Fraya pulls her cigarettes and lighter from her vest pocket. After catching and presenting the duo, she remembered her Mistress taking a liking to the smaller troll. Well, at least an interest in his figure. Meanwhile, the old bat seemed to be all too happy to dig in the English cutie. "Nasty bit- Fuck. She might hear me." 

She pulls out, lights a cigarette, and puts it in her mouth. 

"I want to at least live until my 50th birthday tomorrow."


End file.
